In the year of 1925, the city of Chicago was littered with gunfire, adultery, and murder. Mob bosses ruled the streets with one rule: eat or be eaten. Some where more vicious than others, but none more so than the infamous Ivan J. Braginski, the leader of the Russian mafia. He ran his men like a dictator and was feared like the boogie man.

That day, he walked down the sidewalks to a family owned pub, strutting larger than life with a cigar hanging from his lips.

At that same moment, in front of that same pub, was a boy by the name of Matthew Williams. He stood outside selling newspapers to any passerby that he could.

Matthew was just a regular paper boy that, not really known to him, was connected to one of the higher ups in a mafia rivaling Ivan's, due to his best friend Gilbert Beilschmidt. His only known relative, Alfred F. Jones, was a private investigator to anyone that would hire him. As the two of them, they lived a pretty decent life. Whenever Al couldn't find a case, they still had a fairly steady income from Matthew's papers.

The large man took notice to the paper boy, slim, pale, and cute that he was. He was someone he would definitely enjoy toying with. Ivan stopped in front of him, pulling the cigar away from his lips before giving him his most charming smile.

"How much?"

"Two dollars sir" he said. "Would you like to buy one?" Unfortunately, not many people wanted to buy a newspaper that day.

"Not particularly" he answered honestly, giving him a grin before putting the cigar back in his mouth. "But to do a cutie like you a favor, I'll buy one." He said, reaching into the inside of his coat to pull out a large leather wallet. He opened it up and frowned upon seeing its contents.

"Bad luck, kid-I don't have any small bills….Say, I'm headed into this pub here. How about I buy you couple of drinks to make change?"

"I-I guess that would be alright…." He answered hesitantly. It wasn't like he was going to miss any sells, and he was thirsty.

The large man chuckled and wrapped an arm around the smaller male's shoulders, escorting him inside the bar. "You act like I'm going to eat you~"

"I know you're not going to…..I just don't really know you." He replied honestly.

"I could change that if you like~" The man said with a playful voice, thick with a Russian accent. He looked around for an empty booth. Finding one in the corner of the bar, he ignored any looks they were receiving and headed over there.

Matt shrugged and followed, sitting down across from him. Ivan propped himself up on his elbow, putting out his half-finished cigar in the clay ash tray.

"What will you be drinking?" he asked.

"Uh, just a lemonade" he replied.

Chuckling, he waved down a nervous looking waitress to take their orders.

"Y-yes, Mr. Ivan? What will it be?" she asked hesitantly.

"A virgin citrus and a sazerac with whiskey on the rocks."

She nodded and ran off to get the drinks.

"You know, they say you can tell a lot about a man depending on what he drinks." He said conversationally.

"Oh really? Like what?" he asked, interested.

"Well-many things." He started. "They say you can tell how kind one is, how humble, how well they can fight…how good they are in bed." He joked.

Matt blushed slightly at that. "So what does yours say about you?"

He raised an eyebrow before grinning. He decided to mess with the kid, since he had no idea who he was.

"Well, it says that I'm hardworking, sly, and undeniably charming." He said with a fox-like grin as the waitress returned with their drinks and left again immediately.

"And what does mine say about me?"

"Do you want an honest answer?"

"I do" He said as the both took sips of their drinks.

"You asked for it. Yours says you're shy, really reserved, possibly gay, and definitely a virgin."

His eyes widened. "How did you know all that?"

The Russian raised both of his eyebrows before throwing his head back to roar with laughter. "You're very…. Honest" He said to the other's unspoken question of why he was laughing.

"Say….I haven't gotten your name yet, have I?"

"Oh, I guess not. I'm Matthew Williams" he said, extending out his hand.

Reaching out to grab his hand firmly, he smiled. "Ivan Braginski."

A large Hispanic man then appeared at their booth. Ivan stood up and started talking to him in quite tones.

The next thing Matthew knew, there were gun shots going off all around him. Ivan flipped the table onto its side and grabbed the young blonde by the waist to pull him against his chest.

The gun shots continued to go off, with Ivan and the other man peaking over the table to return fire.

Suddenly, all was quite. The two of them had managed to kill who knows how many men, all by themselves. Standing up, Ivan stared down at the now frightened boy.

"I'm afraid things are only going to get worse for you" he said in almost a regretful voice. He grabbed a handkerchief from out of his suit pocket and reached into his coat to pull out a bottle of clear liquid. Taking out the cork, he poured some of the unknown liquid onto the handkerchief and held it up against Matthew's mouth and nose.

"Sorry kid"

Frantically, he tried to push away Ivan's arm with all his strength, but the other was too strong. The last thing he saw before he passed out was Ivan's face. Things were never going to be the same for either of them again.